Bleach: The End: Tales
by TwiDawnLight
Summary: What if Aizen had won? In a world where the surface of the earth is a wasteland and the home of souls is in ruins, anything can happen. Anyone can suffer.- A series of shorts based on the characters in my guild.
1. I Red

_**Bleach: The End**_

_**Tales**_

_**Chapter I: Red**_

Her first memory was of blood.

She could see the bright crimson splash, a sharp contrast to the dull gray of their surroundings. It poured in rivulets down peach-colored skin that quickly dimmed in color. The red fell into patterns, little roses with thorns that decorated the ground.

She'd never seen a rose before. She didn't think she'd hate one so much.

The white creature reared up, roaring its triumph, letting the blood decorate it like little splashes of paint that a child threw on the wall.

_It's eyes are that color too._ she thought quietly _I hate that color._

Yet that same color burned around her like something tangible, singed the air and took her breath away, charred the gray stone with black ash. Was she a pale creature too then? Was she a monster?

"Ruka!"

She didn't turn at her name, knew she didn't have to. That guardian voice came and swept her up into its embrace, she turned her head away as the pale creature was crushed beneath the fury of green. The scent of it rushed into her nose, filling her with the metal of blood and the breath of life. Were they the same?

She didn't have her answer. That guardian was running now, far away from the pale creatures and their home. Far away from the lifeless violet eyes of her mother, far from the green eyes she'd inherited from her father. All the brunette had to do was turn her head to see the mirror of her eyes reflecting back at her from a tear-stained face. Red trickled down from that same face and Ruka felt her self snarl inside. How she hated red.

But she never breathed a word of anger, only brushed away the red stain, held the hand of the person with a face so much like her own. Yuka smiled painfully at her twin and held on, she knew Ruka hated the color red.

The next time she saw red was when she was eight. She hadn't used that burning aura for a long time, she hated the color.

Ruka knelt over the bodies of her aunt and uncle. Watched the life fade from their eyes.

She bowed her head, a sign of respect and love. She didn't cry, Yuka did that for her.

They couldn't find any flowers, so instead they made their own. Yuka let her blue chilling light pool into the palms of her hands as the blue rose came into existence. Ruka looked on in awe, since that time she'd never seen a rose of a different color. Trying to help, she watched as her burning red light came into her hands. The two roses touched and shivered before staying in existence, for a moment Ruka didn't hate the color red.

Then she set her red rose down and screamed as it started burning. Yuka put it out, but she could never squash her twin's hatred of the color red.

Ruka looked up at this stranger guardedly, hiding Yuka behind her. When she spoke her voice was clear and demanding "Who are you?"

The stranger tilted their head, watching them from the shadows of the cloak. After a pause they pulled down the hood and Ruka sucked in a breath.

Red.

The boy's face was young and kind but hardened from battle. Ruka blinked as she saw his eyes.

Green.

The little girl stared in question at the man that held the colors that she at once hated and held dear. She couldn't wrap her mind around it, her brow furrowed as she glared at him.

"Are you lost?"

The glare darkened, the red burning came to life around her. Behind her she could feel the blue cold of her twin.

"Are you looking for the Underground?"

The glare eased, the aura melted away, and once more the brunette stared quizzically at the kind face and warm smile. How strange that there was someone kind with the colors she hated and loved.

The boy knelt, smile earnest, children couldn't be lied to "Are you looking for the Lady?"

A slow, cautious nod.

"I know the way. Will you come?"

A small movement and a head of gold peeked out from behind the brunette. The girl with brown hair looked back, exchanged a glance, and then turned back with a nod.

"This way."

They trudged along together, the little trio. The girl with brown hair kept staring at him while the blond started asking questions. They continued like this even as they found the way, stepped into the place of hope.

There was a celebration. Red lanterns hung from the houses, roses decorated a few bushes here and there.

The boy watched as the blonde turned nervously to the other. Watched as the girl with brown hair looked around and then closed her eyes with a sigh.

"_You know. I think I like the color red."_


	2. II City

_**Bleach: The End**_

_**Tales**_

_**Chapter II: City**_

The ancient city was lifeless, quiet, dark, painful. Old memories lived silently in the shadows, too weary to speak again. Nothing moved, except for one.

_And to think. This was once the home of spirits._

The boy was young, steel blue eyes taking in the ancient city with the same weariness this place echoed. He didn't speak aloud, it seemed wrong to disturb the silence that had settled upon this place. A city of life had become a city of bones, but even those weren't left to tell the tales.

The boy found his seat next to a dried up pond. He gazed into space, trying to imagine what life had been like before. Trying to imagine if there had ever been any warmth to this cold and barren place.

_Maybe I should fade with it... _he picked up a flower that still had some color. Rather surprising that it would have any life in it after all this time.

In the back of his mind he could hear his mother's ancient stories. Tales of a place wondrous and terrible all at once. Where life and death lived in harmony.

Look at what it had become.

The boy closed his eyes and tried to imagine the place as it had been. For a moment he could picture the life and color flowing back into the world. The scent of fresh grass filled his nose, the gurgling of the brook came to his ears. For that one moment, he was at peace.

Then the screams came the metallic taste of blood and the rotten stench of the dead. A roar echoed in the distance, it ran through him, filling his heart with fear, making his body tremble from it's anger...

The boy sat up with a start, breathing heavily from his ordeal. The memories, the dreams of the old world were imprinted firmly against his mind, as was its death. He closed his eyes, tried to stop the shuddering of his breath, and then felt something cold sliding through his fingertips.

He glanced at his clenched fist, watched as something rich and cold slid through his fingers. Hesitantly, he slowly uncurled his hand and stared. The flower was colorful again, a rich blue not unlike his own eyes. He stared in dumbfounded amazement, trying to reaffirm to himself that this was indeed real. A cool breeze brushed against his skin and he raised his head.

Again he stared. He stared at the lively market before him filled with bustling souls going about their daily lives. Not one glanced in his direction nor at his torn clothes and ragged hair. They simply went on walking, not a care in the world.

He blinked.

A vast empire spread below him, spiritual pressure echoing all around. It looked beautiful, but wherever he was was dark. He slowly turned, and stopped.

A woman with raven black hair sat next to him at the only window in the dark tower. Her eyes were hidden behind the black bangs, but the aura around her was distanced and mournful. She was beautiful, and so very sad.

He reached out to touch her, and gasped softly as she whirled to stare at him. Her piercing violet gaze bore into him, suddenly harsh and cold with none of the frail beauty she'd shown before. He stared as she rose gracefully and her white robes spun with a sudden fury of snow.

The man shielded his eyes, feeling the bitter chill cut into his skin and sink into him, into his heart.

…

When he opened his eyes, this time he knew that he was back.

The man slowly sat up, rubbing at his face, tugging at his skin as if to reassure himself that he was indeed there. The wooden blade at his side hummed softly and he felt himself relax.

Slowly, tentatively, he opened his hand and saw the crushed flower again. This time there was no surge of color, no refreshing cold, it remained its dull pale blue.

"..." the man took the flower and pushed it into his pocket, slowly rising to his feet.

A few steps forward and suddenly he disappeared. A moment later the rumble of the earth filled the ancient land. As it watched, the buildings slowly began to rise up, restore themselves. The land sighed, breathed deeply, returned to it's ancient slumber.

The child would restore the city.


End file.
